From Point A To Point B, A Guide By Amy Daniels
by Anarchy Is Liberation
Summary: "I'll make this place your home." - Inspired by The Inconvenient and Unexpected Journey of Millie Fournier. One minute she was half tripping-half running down the stairs, and the next she was face to face with a giant, mutated zombie. Whoever dragged her from Point A to Point B was on her shit list, that was for sure. Fili/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Full Summary: "I'll make this place your home." - Inspired by _The Inconvenient and Unexpected Journey of Millie Fournier. _One minute she was half tripping-half running down the stairs, and the next she was face to face with a giant, mutated zombie. Whoever dragged her from Point A to Point B was on her shit list, that was for sure. Fili/OC.

* * *

"_**Hold on to me as we go,**_

_**As we roll down**_

_**This unfamiliar road.**_

_**And although this wave is stringing us along**_

_**Just know you're not alone,**_

**'****__****Cause I'm gonna make this place your home" - Phillip Phillips, "Home."**

* * *

_It started out as a normal day; my last day, but the first of many. I had been leaving my apartment in a rush, because I'd woken up early and my boss was a dick, and being late wasn't an option with him. My roommate, Kelly, had been sitting in the kitchen, half dead from her hangover. _

_Sometimes I wonder about her, but never as much as I think I should. She had been my bestfriend for a long time, and now she only crosses my mind every once and a while. _

_I never even said goodbye to her. _

_I said goodbye to my cat, but not her, which shows what kind of person I was before. One way ticket to Crazy Cat Lady Town, and I didn't even care. _

_My name is Amelia Daniels, and I have an amazing story to tell. Or at least, I think it's amazing. But I won't ever be able to tell anyone everything, because it isn't something people would understand. So I'm writing this in a journal, because even though I can't tell anyone, I feel like it needs to be written down. Just in case it happens to someone else. _

_Just in case they feel like they're alone. _

_**But that's more towards the end, the final credits, so to speak. So we'll start with the beginning, because I've been told numerous times that's the best place to start. **_

* * *

"Mommy has to go now, baby," I'd cooed, rubbing Tony's ear and shoving my face into his fur while he struggled for freedom. It was a daily thing we went through. I never let him go, though, because the little shit had to fight his way out and jump to the floor on his own time.

"You better get going, Ams, Dick isn't going to like you being late," it was the last thing Kelly ever said to me. The last thing I had to remember her by. Kelly, with her short blonde hair and brown eyes, and the question mark tattoo she had on her ass because she was a DC fan and a party girl, and the two never went well together.

"Kay, thanks," I'd called practically throwing myself out the door, because I had ten minutes to get to work and it was a twenty minute drive. We lived on the fifth floor of a crappy apartment building that had no elevator, and sometimes, no railings. It was that last part that got me, as I was swinging from flight number three to flight number two. The second floor normally had railings, creaky, wobbling railings, but they were still there.

Or, they were supposed to be.

I'd turned the corner a little too fast and tripped on my laces. There'd been enough time for a panicked moment of _oh shit, _before -

- I remember groaning, because my head was killing me. It was throbbing worse than a migraine, and my bones ached. Now that I think about it, it was probably the transition from 5'11" with mile long legs to dwarf, but. Well.

I rolled, my sides protesting, when I heard it. I don't think I could accurately describe it, because it was my first moment of fear. Real fear, not the kind that comes from finding a spider on the counter.

There was this rasping voice, inhuman and smug and just wrong. I was terrified to open my eyes, but I did anyways. At first all I saw was grass, dirt, and tree roots. But then I saw boots, crusted in mud and brown with broken flecks of grass. It wasn't easy, bringing myself to look up and see what was attached to the boots.

I screamed, loud and long, because Orcs are ugly mothertruckers, let me tell you. Although I hadn't know what they were at that time. I thought they were mutated giant zombies.

The Orc laughed, because it was a little bitch. Now, I could handle a single Orc no problem - they're pack creatures that rely on numbers more than skill. But back then, I was a weak little thing, lazy with tumblr and technology. The most violent thing I'd ever done was a school fight with Danielle Deal over Gage Carver in sixth grade that ended with a new haircut (for me, because she pulled out a substantial chunk of hair, thanks) and a broken nose for her.

"Hello, little dwarf. What are you doing so far from home?" he'd grinned, showcasing rotten teeth and putrid breath as he crouched over me.

"Who're you calling dwarf, buddy. I'm _tall_ for my gender, thank you very much," I'd snapped, voice shaking. I'd always been proud of my height. I don't know why, but it gave me something, some sort of confidence that came from looking down at someone.

_It comes from the stomach, shoulders down, neck long, and think "Murder" and just walk_ was probably the motto of my life. I had a bitch walk and I only managed it because I was tall with long as hell legs.

"But short to everyone else, _dwarf,"_ he was still grinning when I noticed I could see, well. The muscles inside his cheek, the tendons working and his black gums and yellow teeth.

"Dude, what the Hell is wrong with your face?!" I'd shouted, scrambling back. Admittedly, it wasn't my proudest moment. He let, probably because he didn't think I was a threat, which I wasn't, and because I was most definitely amusing him.

"Never seen an Orc before, dwarf-maiden?"

"Not a dwarf, you mutated _zombie,"_ I hissed, stumbling up onto my legs. It didn't give me much height, but it was better than the ground.

"No? Then tell me what you are girl, before I kill you," he laughed, baring his teeth while he was at it. If you guys don't already know, a laugh Orc is probably the creepiest thing ever, and I've met goblins. But that comes later.

"Kill me?" I'd screeched, backing right up into a tree. "You don't wanna do that," I placated, trying for a smile. "Can't we just be friends?"

He opened his mouth, probably to laugh at me again, because he was apparently in the habit of doing that, but the world may never know, because the next second, there was an arrow sticking out. of. his. neck.

It was disgusting.

I screamed, shirking off to the side as his body tumbled forward. "Oh my God, what." I turned to run, because there was obviously some psycho out here killing government experiments gone wrong, and there could be no survivors, so I was probably next on the hit list.

"_Daro!"_

I had no idea what that meant, so I kept running. Or tried. Because, like every female character in any horror movie ever, I tripped. I tripped over a goddamn tree root. A pair of hands grasped at me, lifting me. "What are you doing here, child?"

Elves have a nasty habit of calling anyone and everyone not an Elf 'child,' because hey, they're everlasting little sass-queens.

"Not a child, either," I grumbled, jerking away. I turned, fully prepared for another mutant zombie, but that wasn't what I got.

I remember thinking '_Good God, he's pretty,' _and damn if that isn't the truth. "Forgive me, dwarf-maid, but what are you doing here? Your kind do not stray far from the mountains, nor close to my people."

_Your kind, my people. What are you talking about? I've never been to the mountains. What was that thing? What are you? _There were plenty of good questions I could have asked, but my character shown true, and all I said was: "Not a dwarf."

"Then you are a very small Woman," he mused, blue eyes watching me curiously. "But that does not answer what you are doing here. It is not often Orcs stray near Rivendell, but a lady should not travel alone all the same."

"Ocs? Is that what that _thing_," I waved vaguely at the dead mutant zombie, "Is?"

"Indeed, my lady. Have you never seen one before?"

"Um, yeah, no. Never in my life," I thought about telling him not to call me 'my lady,' but it was kind of nice.

"Then it is fortunate I came when I did."

"Where are we?"

"Rivendell, my lady."

"Where is that? I've never heard of Rivendell," I asked, shoving down the panic that was rising again. How did I get into a freaking forest when I'd been falling down the stairs?

And that was how I met my best friend in Middle Earth. He was my teacher, my brother, my friend. And occasionally, a pain in my ass.

His name was Elrohir.

* * *

Rivendell was amazing. All waterfalls and beaten paths and a towering castle that came right out of the mountain it was settled on. "This is …"

"Beautiful, is it not?"

"It's freaking awesome," I'd breathed, flashing him the smile that had gotten me out of trouble so many times before.

"I do not understand what that means," he admitted, eyebrows furrowing together minutely.

"What, awesome? It means great, amazing, spectacular," I rambled, confused myself, because who didn't know what 'awesome' meant?

"And 'freaking'?"

I snorted, because the word sounded so wrong coming from him, to stiff and unfamiliar. Which made sense, if he had no idea what it meant. "Um. I guess it just emphasizes?" I shrugged.

"Ah, I see," we stood in silence for a moment, "Forgive me, my lady, but I have forgotten my manners. My name is Elrohir, son of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," he listed primly. I had never heard anyone list off their family lineage like that. It should have been a sign that, well, _something _was wrong, that I wasn't in some government facility.

I can be surprisingly oblivious when I want to be, though. Which will be noted later (spoilers) and degressed upon.

"Amelia Daniels, but my friends call me Amy," I replied, smiling up at my BFG.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Amelia."

"I _just_ said my friends call me Amy. You killed that Orcs thingy, we're friends."

"Of course, Lady Amy."

It wasn't until I was standing in a room filled with open windows and sheer curtains and _Lord Freaking Elrond, who Is Capable of Dismantling Tony Starks Ego With One Look_ that I realized myself. My clothes were the same size (a fact that will forever confuse me, because by all rights they should have stayed normal sized. But then again, by all rights, I wouldn't be writing this), but they were less than presentable.

Because they were pajamas. Scooby Doo pajamas, actually.

"You must be Amelia," he started, "The Valar have told me much about you."

"The who?"

"The Valar, who created this world and the species that call it home," he educated, "They brought you here, as well."

"Can't they take me home? Back to Florida? Or Hawaii, I wouldn't mind a visit there," I tried.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand me, Miss Daniels. Wherever you are from, wherever you call home is, it is not here, and there is no passage back."

I wanted to call him crazy. Wanted to accuse him of kidnapping, experimentation. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go home. Instead, I closed my eyes and thought of Charlize Theron.

_I am proud. I am beautiful. I am worth so much more than you will ever know._

I know it sounds vain, but I wasn't always the prettiest girl in the world. Middle school hadn't been kind to me; braces, acne, lips too big for my face, with wide hips and a flat chest. Self confidence was a no go.

It wasn't until senior year that I really fell into myself. My skin cleared up, my braces were gone, and I got a rack. I got pretty, and damn if I was going to let anyone say different.

"Why?"

"Why are you here?"

I nodded, not wanting to talk in case my voice wavered. "I do not know just yet. In time, we shall know. Until then, you shall be welcome in my home."

_And that was how I made a home in Rivendell. _

* * *

AN: its not much, just a beginning. Its also a WIP, so fair warning an all that. Comment, critique, or ask questions to your hearts content.


	2. Glorfindel & Co

Shoutout to **sistaa-krimzz, **my first reviewer. And of course, my eight followers. And, I believe the guest, Endora or something like that, asked what BFG meant. Sorry it wasn't clear, I grew up reading a book by the same name and tend to assume everyone knows what it means. For those that don't, it means **Big Friendly Giant. ** I don't really advise reading the book. It was boring, but then again, I was ten when I read it, so.

* * *

_I stayed in Rivendell for about six months. When I say it like that, it doesn't really sound like it was a long stay. I stayed in Rivendell until I could use a sword beyond "Hit them with the pointy end," until I could passibly understand and speak Sindarin, until I was a miniature elf. _

_Elrohir got me past the fact that I would never see my family again, never see Kelly in all her drunk glory. He took me out, taught me to use a bow, how to track. I taught him all the slang I could remember, ridiculous or not, and he used it to drive Elrond batty. _

_I met Estel, a human Man just a few years older than me in looks, with kind eyes and an easy laugh. If it wasn't for the height difference and obvious unavailability, I would've climbed him like a tree. Instead, he became a close friend, someone who would listen to my stories of home attentively, although he hadn't a clue what half the things I mentioned were. _

_Glorfindel was probably the worst and best thing to happen to me in Rivendell. Worst, because he was willing to train me in swordplay, and drove me into the ground with it every day until I learned to fight back. He certainly wasn't an easy teacher and had the tendency to charge me at any given moment just to see if I was prepared. _

_Which leads me to the best thing about Glorfindel._

_He was the biggest troll I've ever met. _

* * *

"You're going to have to be faster than that," Glorfindel drawled, lazily swinging his dull blade at my head. I'd blocked, but just barely, because lazy for an elf was fast for me. "Honestly, I've seen aged Men guard better than you."

I huffed, parrying his swing with an undercut of my own, which he easily blocked. The little shit. The problem with learning from the best swordmaster Elves had to offer, ladies and gentlemen.

We'd been at it for about an hour, because Glorfindel liked to draw out his torture, _ehem. _Teaching. After six months, I was able to hold my own, and that was about it. I could only hope that, hey, it meant I'd be able to do more against less. "Very good. Now, disarm me," he demanded.

I obeyed, twisting my wrist just so to catch his blade just right, then flicked, the training sword flying out of his grip. It was the first maneuver he'd taught me, after the basic undercut, overcut, and block. _The best thing you could ever do is disarm your opponent before you kill him. Orcs have a nasty habit of not dying when they should, which means they roll around and stab you in the back when you pass over them. They can't do that without a sword. _

"You're improving," he complimented, picking the sword up from the ground, "Might just be worth something now," he drawled, something he did often when insulting someone. He liked to make the words longer, just in case you didn't understand them at normal length.

"You're a dick," I huffed, flicking my braid over my shoulder and glaring up at him. Six months, and I still hadn't gotten over being the shortest thing around.

"I assure you that, while I indeed have one, I am not," he quipped, raising a brow at me. And _that_ was the reason I loved only three Elves in Rivendell - Glorfindel, Elrohir, and Elladan all embraced my crudity and threw it back at me with poise and grace.

I laughed, trekking after him to the equipment shed to put away our pointy toys. The walk was near silent, only my stilted breathing and the sounds of nature. "Has Lord Elrond told you of our incoming guests?" he asked, breaking the quiet.

"You mean the pack of dwarves that may or may not be coming here, to be decided by yet unknown variables?" if there was one thing that annoyed me, it was Elrond and Galadriel's shifting omnipotence. _This here is going to be your future, unless this happens, or this, and possibly that, but you should focus on making sure this happens, and this doesn't, or it might not happen at all. _

Fat lot of good it did.

"Yes, them. You're to be present when they arrive."

"And when will that happen?"

"Tomorrow, if things go accordingly," he shrugged delicately, "But only if that one thing happens," he teased, dodging out of range when I made to swipe at him.

It was just before dinner when the dwarves arrived, contrary to what Glorfindel had guessed. "Suppose certain things happened and other things didn't," I'd joked, watching Lindir approach the group from where I was perched on a balcony.

"Or maybe the things that weren't supposed to happen happened, thus changing the things that happened to happen."

"Thank you, Captain Jack Sparrow," I snarked, belatedly realizing he wouldn't understand the reference. _Johnny Depp, gone to waste. _

"I'll leave that terrible lapse in name remembrance alone," Glorfindel chuckled, spinning on his heel, "Come, we have dwarves to meet."

"Are my favorite twins going to be back soon?"

"If certain events that are meant to happen, happen," he answered breezily, nose tilted up in the air.

"I'll hit you," I'd threatened, "I don't know how, but I will. I'll find you in your sleep and smack you silly."

"My lady, if you wanted into my chambers, you could simply ask."

I'd known a trap when I saw one. _I did, _honestly, but it was one of those things I couldn't walk away from. I have a thing for blondes, and the offer was right _there. _

"Am I allowed in your chambers, Lord Glorfindel?"

"Valar, no," he gasped, his face the perfect mask of scandalized, "What kind of harlot do you take me for?"

"Such a prude," I complained, rolling my eyes. "Oh, look, they've seen me," I quipped, walking out into the courtyard. I tried for casual, and I succeeded, _but it was anything but casual. _I'd gotten used to Elves, the majestic little beasts, but people my own size, if just a tad bit hairier than usual, was wonderful.

_And only two or so of them were taller than me. _

Which may seem irrelevant, but if you hadn't already gathered, height was my defence. When I was mad, I loomed. I stood over people, I looked down at them, and it was awesome. Height was to me what eyebrows were to Derek Hale - bless you, season one of Teen Wolf, all that I will ever see.

"A dwarfmaiden?" one called, who'd I'd later learn was Nori.

"You've taken her captive?" and that was Gloin, people, in all his hotheaded glory. As I'm sure you can guess, things escalated rather quickly from there. There was shouting, angry looks, a baffled hobbit, an exasperated wizard, and a frightened looking Lindir.

All in all, amusement.

"Look at them," I started, "Dwarves in their natural state."

"Irrate and short," Glorfindel took up, although he had no idea what a sports commentary was (or, as the case was, Animal Channel), but catching on quickly. "Watch as they aggressively demand answers, but leave no room for response."

"They seem close to drawing weapons, and the lone Istari looks close to intervening."

"Ah, yes, the Istari known as Gandalf, the mediator of Arda," Glorfindel mused.

"But will he save Lindir, the prey of the savage dwarves?"

"Only time shall tell," he bemoaned, sighing heavily. I broke character, falling into laughter.

"Jesus Christ, Fin, you're gonna make me bust a rib if you keep this up."

"Can't have that," he sassed, only to have his thunder stolen by Lord Elrond's well timed entrance.

* * *

_I'll let everyone in on a secret, that I've learned with time: Elves do, in fact, practice their shit. Every raised brow, quirk of the lips, and dramatic entrance is practiced. They have thousands of years to live, and very little to occupy their time, and so they're left messing with us mortal folk. _

_They're goddamn trolls, and they have centuries of practice. The older they are, the better they are, with the exclusion of Elves from Lorien, because they're too well mannered for any sort of troll-like activity. _

_That said, Glorfindel has lived two lives. He mentioned, once, that the Valinor granted him a second chance, a second body. _

_The troll of all trolls, ladies and gents, with the dynamic duo of Elrohir and Elladan coming in a close second. _

* * *

"Mithrandir, what a pleasant surprise," Elrond greeted in Sindarin, purposefully pissing off the dwarves. Even now I remember the way they bristled, righteous anger and short stature mixing in to something entirely too amusing. "I would have been here to greet you, but we were waylaid by a group of Orcs. Seems they were hunting something."

"Ah, that may have been us," he responded, conveying '_Oops, sorry, not sorry' _with an innocent shrug. The two continued with meaningless pleasantries until Elrond offered food.

"What does he say?" Gloin had demanded, "Does he mean to take us captive like he has with her?" again, the dwarves rallied with indignance.

"This probably shouldn't be as amusing as it is," I murmured to Glorfindel, who let out a delicate snort of agreement.

"He offers us food," the hobbit sighed with exasperation, something he's rather akin to, at least in the presence of dwarves. Elrond allowed the hobbit a small smile of surprise, something he didn't do often.

"Indeed, Master Baggins. Lady Amelia will show you the way," he turned, beckoning me forward.

"_You little shit," _I hissed, knowing full well every elf in the courtyard could hear me. He raised an eyebrow, _do something about it, _and I huffed. Because there wasn't anything I could do about it.

"How did you come to be here?" Thorin demanded, Gloin tossing in a disgusted "With Elves?"

"I found myself in the woods with a Orc, and Elrohir was kind enough to save me," and more than likely emotionally scar me with the sight of my first dead body, but who needs to mention that.

"I had nowhere else to go, so Lord Elrond took me in."

"You could have gone to Ered Luin," Kili offered with confusion. It was the first time I _really_ focused on him, and it caught me off guard, because -

"Holy shit, your face," not my best moment, I know. But he looks like Aiden Turner, with only minor exceptions like hair, and _Being Human? _ Best show ever, I love you John Mitchell 5ever.

"What about it?" he'd demanded, Fili drawing himself up like he was preparing for a fight, _dwarfmaiden _or no.

"You just," I floundered, unable to translate _you look like my ideal baby-daddy, give me a sec. _ "You just look like someone who was well known where I come from," I answered lamely. "Sorry."

"Well known for what?" he'd asked, all offence gone in the face of his curiosity. _Attractiveness and acting _was the answer, but I settled for giving a dainty sniff and ignored him.

"I stayed here because I wanted to."

"Why would you want to stay with Elves?" Thorin had sounded honestly confused, and I'd felt a moment of pity for him. I still feel that way, for anyone who holds an ounce of unfounded bigotry, _because they miss out on so much._ They miss out on Elves in their natural Trolldom, or dwarves in all their easy-fun and kindhearted bickering.

"Because they saved me," and no one seemed to have a comeback to that.

* * *

AN: i know, i know, short and all over the place. but I don't really care, this entire thing is an exercise in figuring out how I like writing, so deal with it. it's liable to change, or maybe not. Anywho, comment, question, and critic to your hearts desire:)


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